But the Helper (Comforter, Advocate, Intercessor—Counselor, Strengthener, Standby), the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name [in My place, to represent Me and act on My behalf], He will teach you all things. And He will help you remember everything that I have told you. – John 14:26, AMP
Your betrayal nearly hardened my heart
Calcified instead fond episodic memories –
Consciously collected personal events
Stored in temporal lobe.
Imagining possible future experiences
Not achievable since episodic memories’
Self-knowing awareness is inaccessible,
Incapable of roaming at will.
Needing to believe my dreamlike ghostly
Existence isn’t endless just a juxtaposition –
Tragedy and comedy placed side by side to
Accentuate both my sadness and foolishness –
I seek the answers to these mysterious and
Unexplainable human psyche extremes that
Pull and stretch my mind’s corridors of time.
Hoping to sidestep eternal unawareness,
I pray for a softening with time my mind’s
Repressive future until it allows petrified
Explicit memories to melt.
Let me consciously recall every pleasant
Highly emotional date, place, experience
Containing sentimental value so that my
Hope for a future is restored. - composed March 18, 2021
Today is the second anniversary of the day my oldest son died. What I say in my mini-memoir, Untimely Farewells, about that melancholy May 2 is that I was feeling apprehensive. So:
“…I thought that if I went for a walk that it would calm me. It didn’t. As soon as I started walking, I burst into tears. While wailing, I suddenly blurted out a desperate plea.
“Father,” I sobbed, “please take me,
instead of my son. I have lived a relatively long life. He is too young to die.
Plus, he needs to be here for his sons and his new grandson. They surely will
suffer immensely, if Ade were to die. They can do without me, but not their dad.
Please, Father, let Ade live, if that is
Your Will. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”
I prayed similar prayers during that
twenty or thirty-minute walk, as well as throughout that day. Still, my
uneasiness continued to intensify; so much so, that by six o’clock in the
evening I felt too sick to be around my family — my younger son, his wife, and
their children — so I went to bed.
By now, my entire body seemed to know
that Ade was dying. That was why all I wanted to do was to escape that
unbearable truth by sleeping my hurt away. I had not been asleep all that long
before Tarik was sitting next to me on my bed, shaking me, and begging me to
“wake up.” He repeated his plea. “Please wake up, Mom. You have to wake up,
now.” It was 7:50 p.m., my time.
Awake but a bit fuzzy, I asked Tarik, “Why do I need to wake up,” and before he could say “Ade is gone, Mom,” I already knew it. I immediately started crying, while simultaneously trying to push Tarik away and asking, aloud, “Why, God, why?” However, Tarik wouldn’t let me pull away from him. We cried together in each other’s arms.” (pp. 172-173)
That day, I joined a club that mothers everywhere hope they will never have to join. I became a permanent member of the Mothers Who Have Lost a Child club. What I also say in my mini-memoir is it is unfortunate that “…even though I eventually could rejoice with God that Ade was no longer suffering pain, I couldn’t avoid grieving his loss” (p. 182).
Two years later, I am still grieving the loss of my son, Olumuyiwa Ade Keen. Even though I am not, nor have I ever been, paralyzed by a deep-seated depression, I do feel sad at times, even more so on days like today.
Many
grief experts have come up with their own list of things a grieving person can
do that supposedly will help him or her deal with the anniversary of a loved one’s
death, but the truth is nothing and no human being can get me through today. Only
the Holy Spirit can comfort me while helping me deal with Ade’s death, and He
is doing just that. Thank You, Holy Spirit!
I wrote the following poem in August of 2017. It is about the anguish and sadness losing Ade has made me feel. I originally posted this poem on August 13, 2017, in one of my WordPress blog articles. At that time, I noted that this poem was from my “Deep-Rooted Disposition” manuscript. “Moody Woman” is now the title of that same manuscript. Once again, here is my poem:
Raining Nonstop in My Heart
Human life comes with no magical number – Threescore years and ten not guaranteed to Everyone into whom the Breath of Life is breathed, Putting within all living souls an eternal soul – An endless spiritual dimension of humanity. Yet long-life promise Command is figurative – At best, most days are long in Promised Lands But years are far shorter than the psalmist’s seventy Briefer still for countless parents’ beloved sons Or daughters they received from Indian Giver: Grief’s irate criticism of living souls’ Creator. Heartache cosigns divers pejorative expressions – Death makes them intensely strange bedfellows; Thankfully, God’s Love covers a multitude of mindsets Dead set on using finger pointing to hide the pain That mentally fighting noxious emotional wounds Deepens as human nature ignores Spirit’s Healing. Child-loss pain is without equal, unlike none other – Uniquely categorized since it betters bereavements’ Other types, triggering rawest ever-conceived anger that Wages war against the unfairness of it all, hardening Hearts reluctant to see collateral beauty around them Uninterrupted by undying love that sets off joy and hope. Domino effect doesn’t just signify a future disaster – It illustrates how love that is in the middle of all life Is hearts’ forever falling domino concurrently connecting By coupling each toppled one to grief, pain, suffering, Loss, or varied other ripples, including death, as they Form rings around unending love’s collateral beauty. Even so, diabetes monkey wrenched my life – This pre-existing condition snuffed out Olumuyiwa’s candle short of my often prayed for Long-life plan for my eldest son whose Given name means: ‘God provides this.’ I’m sure Ade, denoting ‘my crown,’ will get his – For my strong soldier fought the hardest battles; Still my heart misses its vital piece needed to fix these Throbbing, flip-flopping, pounding, skipping beat Irregular rhythms’ agonizingly irksome hiccups. They’re from regularly reran videos of his life – He’s infant, teen, adult; optimist then pessimist; He’s laughing, speaking, leaving, returning, then dying In my head’s wirelessly streamed detailed scenes Of jubilation and desolation that wear me down. Every interlude between reruns baits my fear – Cruel taunts make me believe I have begun to Forget the strong-willed, handsome, animated part Of me that died, living now only in memories Daydreams summon instantly without delay. Losing Olumuyiwa unlocked soulish floodgates – Now it’s heavily raining nonstop in my old heart, Wet monsoons from an overflowing waterlogged soul; Life is surreal like I’m imprisoned and dying in The center of a floating no locks, no bars vast Airless gravity-defying water designed bubble. Losing Olumuyiwa aftereffect is canyon in heart – This too wide to close gap prevents me from ever Being same person, since grief has no expiration date – Just a myriad of sadness and hopelessness tides That confirm uncomfortable truth: he’s not here.
This second anniversary of Ade’s death is very significant. Thanks to Father God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit, I have done something, which on May 2, 2017, I didn’t think it would have ever been possible. I have survived two whole years without my oldest son, who was and still is someone as enormously important to me as life itself.
Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being. ~ Matthew 6:19-21, MSG
Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the Lord your God gives you. ~ Exodus 20:12, NASB
As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, Or if due to strength, eighty years, Yet their pride is but labor and sorrow; For soon it is gone and we fly away. ~ Psalm 90:10, NASB
When Jesus saw the crowds, He went up on the mountain; and after He sat down, His disciples came to Him.He opened His mouth and began to teach them, saying,
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” ~ Matthew 5:1-3, NASB
and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away. ~ Revelation 21:4, NASB
Human life comes with no magical number— Threescore years and ten not guaranteed to Everyone into whom the Breath of Life is breathed Putting within all living souls an eternal soul An endless spiritual dimension of humanity.
Yet long-life promise Command is figurative— At best, most days are long in Promised Lands But years are far shorter than the psalmist’s seventy Briefer still for countless parents’ beloved sons Or daughters they received from Indian Giver: Grief’s irate criticism of living souls’ Creator.
Heartache cosigns divers pejorative expressions— Death makes them intensely strange bedfellows; Thankfully, God’s Love covers a multitude of mindsets Dead set on using finger pointing to hide the pain That mentally fighting noxious emotional wounds Deepen as human nature ignores Spirit’s Healing.
Child-loss pain is without equal, unlike none other— Uniquely categorized since it betters bereavements’ Other types, triggering rawest ever-conceived anger that Wages war against the unfairness of it all, hardening Hearts reluctant to see collateral beauty around them Uninterrupted by undying love that sets off joy and hope.
Domino effect doesn’t just signify a future disaster— It illustrates how love that is in the middle of all life Is hearts’ forever falling domino concurrently connecting By coupling each toppled one to grief, pain, suffering, Loss, or varied other ripples, including death, as they Form rings around unending love’s collateral beauty.
Even so, diabetes monkey wrenched my life— This pre-existing condition snuffed out Olumuyiwa’s candle short of my often prayed for Long-life plan for my eldest son whose Given name means: ‘God provides this.’
I’m sure Ade, denoting ‘my crown,’ will get his— For my strong soldier fought the hardest battles; Still my heart misses its vital piece needed to fix these Throbbing, flip-flopping, pounding, skipping beat Irregular rhythms’ agonizingly irksome hiccups.
They’re from regularly reran videos of his life— He’s infant, teen, adult; optimist then pessimist; He’s laughing, speaking, leaving, returning, then dying In my head’s wirelessly streamed detailed scenes Of jubilation and desolation that wear me down.
Every interlude between reruns baits my fear— Cruel taunts make me believe I have begun to Forget the strong-willed, handsome, animated part Of me that died, living now only in memories Daydreams summon instantly without delay.
Losing Olumuyiwa unlocked soulish floodgates— Now it’s heavily raining nonstop in my old heart, Wet monsoons from an overflowing waterlogged soul; Life is surreal like I’m imprisoned and dying in The center of a floating no locks, no bars vast Airless gravity-defying water designed bubble.
Losing Olumuyiwa aftereffect is canyon in heart— This too wide to close gap prevents me from ever Being same person, since grief has no expiration date Just a myriad of sadness and hopelessness tides That confirm uncomfortable truth: he’s not here.
~ The above poem is from my new poetry manuscript titled Deep-Rooted Disposition.
~ The above video (MP4 file) is stored on Google Drive. I created and posted this video on July 2, 2017. It is a tribute to my son, Olumuyiwa Ade Keen, who died on May 2, 2017. “Softly at Sunrise” by Gerald Alright is the song that is playing in the background. Olumuyiwa loved this Smooth Jazz song!